The Goblin King
by LornaWinters
Summary: Another reader-requested short story. The memories of Guinevere flooded back to him. She was a woman now, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He had often imagined what it would have been like to have married her, even though she was a human. A prequel to "First Impressions, or The Bodyguard."


**This was at the request of a few of my readers, and was supposed to be a one-shot, but it ended up being much longer. After writing this, I found myself wishing that I hadn't killed off this guy! Oh, well, it was supposed to be tragic. Please, please review!**

Ten-year-old Tævek stopped kicking the base of the table when his mother gave him a warning look. He instantly sat up straight. He had earlier that day begged her to let him come to this event, but now that he was here, he was getting restless. The Nua Breizhians were interesting, but he had finally seen his fill of them and was ready to go back home to Romulus.

The elderly Ambassador Joran leaned over to whisper to Tævek's mother. "Your son is behaving quite well for his first diplomatic function, Senator," he complimented. "He shows definite potential."

Senator Valel smiled proudly. "Thank you, Ambassador. We shall see."

Tævek sighed, and at this point he did not care how loud it was. He was bored out of his mind. He did not see how they could possibly think he would someday want to have a career as a diplomat. It sounded so incredibly mundane and insipid. He folded his arms and turned away from that agitating dialog, and began to glance around the dining hall again.

Everyone else in the room was eating, drinking, and laughing. There had been dancing earlier. He had never seen anything like that before, and he hoped they would do it again. It looked like fun. Though his mother had staunchly told him that Romulans did not dance, young Tævek found himself wishing that he could have joined the humans.

Lord Erwan and Lady Marie were at the opposite end of the table, together with their teen-aged sons, Tierney and Cahal. Tævek leaned his head on his hand when his gaze fell on the girl sitting next to them. He did not remember her name, but he knew she was the only daughter, and that she was intended to become a ruler along with her brothers. She looked to be about his age. He smiled to himself when he realized that she seemed as disinterested in being there as he was. She sank lower and lower into her chair. Before long, she disappeared entirely, and then reappeared on the other side of the table, between two empty chairs.

What a marvelous idea! Tævek quickly made sure that his mother was not looking, and imitated the human girl's movements. He peaked out from underneath the tablecloth just in time to see her scamper out of the nearest window. Another glance at his mother and the ambassador told him that they were still talking and not paying attention to him. He stealthily dashed out of the window behind her before anyone else saw him.

Once outside, he looked around for her. There was no moon out, so it took time for his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness.

"Why are you following me?" It was the first time he had heard her voice, but he knew it was she.

"I was curious about you," he answered.

The girl tilted her head. Apparently, that had not occurred to her before. "Why?"

"I suppose because we're the only children here," he said, "and you looked as bored as was. My name is Tævek, of Romulus. What's yours?"

"Guinevere," she smiled, "but everyone calls me '_Cherie_'. You can call me that if you'd like."

"Cherie…" he breathed, touching her raven locks. "You are a beautiful female," he said bedazzled. "I shall marry you when we are grown."

The girl laughed in disbelief, and Tævek suddenly felt ashamed of his statement. "You can't marry me," she informed him, "I'm already betrothed to Henri Loiola. I will marry him when I grow up." He had no idea who that was, but he did not want her to know of his ignorance. "But you _are_ rather cute yourself, Tævek of Romulus, in an elfin sort of a way." Her tone suggested that she was quoting something she had heard or read somewhere.

"Well," he said angrily, parroting his elders, "humans are a weak race anyway!"

"We are _not_!" she huffed, stamping her foot.

"Prove it, human!" he demanded.

"I…I have a sword, and I can fight you with it, _Romulan_!" she said, getting into his face.

"What sword?" the boy mocked. "I don't see any sword! I think you're lying!"

The girl bit her lip. "It's in the training room," she admitted, "I'm not allowed to use it without the swordmaster."

Tævek folded his arms. "Pathetic excuses! Are you afraid, human girl?" he challenged.

Fire flashed in her eyes. "No! Follow me!" she snapped her fingers at him.

He tip-toed behind her through the long, shadowy corridors of the castle. She put a single finger to her lips when they reached a large door, "Shhhh!" The Romulan boy had never seen that gesture before, but he understood the meaning that was being conveyed. The door creaked loudly as she pushed it open, and they both looked down the hallway to see if anyone had heard it.

"Someone will see if we turn on the lights," she whispered. There was some illumination coming in through the windows from the outdoor lanterns. In the corner of the room was a chest, decorated in the elaborate knotwork Tævek had seen everywhere he had been on that world. The girl pulled out an exquisite blade, and he gasped in awe when he saw it.

"It belonged to my grandmother," she told him proudly. "Hmm, I think we will be able to see better outside."

Tævek chose one of the lower swords hanging from the wall display and followed her to the terrace outside.

"Ok," she giggled, "I'll pretend to be the fairy princess, and you can be the evil goblin king!"

The game sounded strange, but at the same time irresistibly amusing. He did not know what "fairies" or "goblins" were, and was not certain he wished to play the role she assigned to him. The girl's enthusiasm was contagious, however, so he agreed. "As you wish, Cherie."

"It will be an epic struggle," she envisioned.

"But in the end," he continued the fantasy, "the fairy princess will see that the goblin king is not as evil as she first imagined, and they will make an alliance."

"Hmmm," she considered, "that sounds good. But first, we have to have the epic struggle."

"Then let it begin," Tævek held his sword up.

"Maestro Perroni says to go slowly, to make sure our movements are done correctly," she imitated her practice sessions. Her brown eyes were wide, and there was apprehension in her voice.

"You've never fought with real swords before, have you, Cherie?" he asked.

"Well, no," she put her face in her hands in shame and began to cry. "I've only used the wooden practice sword," she sobbed.

Tævek suddenly felt horrible for humiliating her, and he wanted more than anything for her to stop crying and smile again. "We'll go slowly, then," he offered. "I won't cut you, Cherie. I swear it. Please don't cry."

"Alright," she sniffed, "but it would be more epic if we fought on the sitting ledge," she pointed to the edge of the terrace. When they got there, Tævek peaked over the side. Down below, the river meandered gently around the compound and continued off into the distance. Now it was he who felt apprehensive, but he did not want this human girl to think that Romulans were afraid of anything. The mock battle began.

"Surrender, fairy princess!" Tævek growled, in what he imagined a "goblin" voice would sound like, "You are no match for a goblin like me!"

She deflected his strike, but lost her balance and fell over the side. It was a wonder she did not stab herself with her own sword in the process. Fortunately she landed in the water.

"Cherie!" he cried. Without a second thought, he jumped into the water. He swam over to her and helped her to the sandbar on the bank.

Guinevere blinked. "You saved my life, Tævek of Romulus!" She threw her arms around him and pressed her lips to his. Another human gesture he had never seen before. He understood that she was thanking him, however, so he returned the embrace.

"You're so brave," she said.

"We Romulans are a brave people," he repeated to her what his mother had told him the entire ten years that had been his life.

"I would rather marry you than Henri Loiola," she said sadly.

They returned, dripping wet, to the castle, where the entire gathering was there waiting for them.

"What is this nonsense?" his mother demanded. Tævek knew without a doubt that he was in for a spanking when they got back to their suite.

"We were playing and I fell into the river," Guinevere quickly explained. "He rescued me."

Lord Erwan nodded to him in approval. "That was an honorable and chivalrous thing to do, young man," her father told him. He addressed Tævek's mother. "To offer one's life for a lady is one of the highest honors among our people," he explained to her. "You should be very proud of your son, Senator. We are in his debt."

The lord turned back to the boy. Tævek stiffened his back, despite the fear he felt from the powerful-looking man's gaze. "_I_ am in your debt, young Tævek. Thank you."

Tævek anticipated quickly and bowed in respectful acknowledgement, "It was my honor, sir." The thought of asking Lord Erwan if he would allow him marry his daughter when he grew up instead of Henri Loiola briefly entered his thoughts. But considering the trouble he had very nearly gotten into, he decided to dismiss the notion.

The two brothers, Tierney and Cahal, approached him and shook his hand. "Thanks, Tævek," Cahal told him, "My little sister means more to me than anything else in the world."

"It was my honor," he repeated to the older boy.

Cahal smiled, "Maybe someday I'll return the favor."

Tævek could just barely hear Ambassador Joran whisper to his mother, "I told you, Valel. The boy has potential."

* * *

Fifteen years later…

Guinevere stood on the platform and watched the landing shuttle that was carrying the new Romulan ambassador with curiosity. She would miss old Joran. How old was he anyway? He had been there since the time of her grandfather, she knew. The man must have been as ancient as dirt. He had more than earned the right to retire, but it was going to be a considerable adjustment for everyone.

So far, no one had heard anything about the new minister. The Romulan Empire was not in the habit of communicating all of the details that concerned its relations with Nua Breizh; and this verity had long ago been accepted. Indeed, it had come to be expected. So much so, that Ambassador Joran had adopted the French saying, _C'est la vie!_ when referring to the ever mysterious doings of his own government.

The shuttle door opened and a much younger Romulan man stepped out. Before she could catch herself, Guinevere felt an audible gasp escape from her chest. He was so incredibly handsome… She was aware that the new emissary would be younger than Joran—everyone was younger than Joran. But she simply was not prepared for this robust and fine-looking Apollo. At her side, her brother Cahal turned to look at her. _Are you alright?_ he asked her silently.

She gave her brother a tiny nod and smiled diplomatically as the man approached. He was the epitome of protocol and seriousness, as opposed to Joran's laid-back and open manner. "I am Tævek," he saluted. Guinevere held her breath. The name rang a bell, but she could not quite recall why. They could not have possibly met before, as she _surely_ would have remembered a man like him. Yet somehow, he was familiar.

Her eldest brother returned the bow. "I am Tierney Allaire, Lord of Nua Breizh," he announced. "And this is my brother, Lord Cahal, co-regent." The two men bowed to each other. "And," Tierney gestured behind him, "my sister, Lady Guinevere, also a co-regent."

There was the slightest spark of something in the Romulan's eyes when he noticed her, and one side of his mouth turned up slightly. "_Enchanté, Milady_," his alluring voice articulated with flawless pronunciation. He kissed her hand in the traditional Breton custom. Guinevere willed her facial expression to stay neutral, even though her heart felt like a butterfly trying to escape out of her chest. She scolded herself for acting like a giddy teenager. Of course he would have learned her language and customs—he was the ambassador to her planet for heaven's sake!

"Our home is your home, Ambassador," she said, trying with all her might not to tremble.

"Thank you, Lady," he replied.

"We have arranged a welcome reception for you tomorrow evening, Ambassador," Tierney informed him. "Lord Cahal will show you to your accommodations until then."

"You are too kind, my Lords," the diplomat asserted formally.

"This way, if you please, Ambassador," Cahal gestured.

Tævek dipped his head respectfully in Guinevere's direction before moving on down the stairs toward the royal residence. Guinevere marked her brothers' exchanging of boyish grins after the diplomat passed them.

"He's grown," Cahal whispered.

"Yes," Tierney agreed.

The lady blinked in bewilderment. Her brothers recognized him. Why could she not remember? She made a mental note to question them about it later, and proceeded behind them.

* * *

Tævek ran his hand along the stone wall of the corridor. Everything was much smaller than he remembered. But the castle at San Mihael had lost none of its air of mystery and enchantment for him. He had always hoped that the chance to return here again would come. He remembered his way around the palace exactly, though it felt as though it had all been from a dream.

He smiled when he came to the large door of the training room. The memories of his "epic struggle" with Cherie flooded back to him. She was a woman now, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. As imprudent as it would have been, a tiny part of him regretted that he had not asked her father for her hand after pulling her out of the river all those years ago. He had often imagined what it would have been like to have married her, even though she was a human. But the truth was, Romulan women never did hold as much appeal to him as the sovereign of Nua Breizh. Guinevere was much more enchanting and classy than any of the women of his own people he had met.

Indeed, it was a pity and a shame that she was betrothed. Although why her intended had not already come to claim her was beyond him. He supposed that this Henri Loiola must not have met her yet. He _could_ not have, Tævek decided. It was highly probable considering the recent "rift" with the Basques that none of the Nua Breizhinans cared to speak about.

The large door creaked loudly as he pushed it open. He hoped against all hope that she would be there. And to his surprise and delectation, she was. She thrust and swung her grandmother's sword with considerably more skill and ease, and she was clearly no longer afraid of its sharpened edge. The groaning of the door alerted her that she had a visitor.

"Ambassador," she greeted, "What can I do for you?" Did she remember him? He of course had recognized her instantly that morning. But he was uncertain as to what that reaction from her meant. Perhaps she found him attractive. It would be nice if she did. _You are rather cute, Tævek of Romulus,_ he recalled her telling him, _in an elfin sort of a way._

"Lady Guinevere," he returned the formality. "I came to exercise," he told her smoothly, using the best excuse he could think of on the spot.

"I will leave you to your privacy, then," she said.

"No, please don't trouble yourself on my account, Lady. May I borrow one of the weapons in this room?"

"Our home is your home, Ambassador," she reminded him again.

He smiled graciously. "Thank you, Milady." He chose the same lower sword on the wall from his childhood, watching to see if she would take note of his selection. Her eyes narrowed slightly at him.

"You seem to have considerable skill with that sword," he remarked casually.

"I have an excellent Master," she said with genuine modesty.

"You must be his most prized pupil, then," he continued.

She smiled at the complement. "If that is so, it probably has more to do with my rank than my abilities." Then she frowned. "You didn't come here to exercise, did you, Ambassador?"

Tævek chuckled. She was still every bit as irresistibly charming as when she was a girl. "No, my Lady," he answered truthfully. "I was exploring this impressive home of yours. I hope you will not see that as impertinence on my part."

Guinevere wrinkled her forehead. "You are well aware that I do not, Ambassador."

"Then I shall continue my self-guided tour and allow you to finish your practicing. Good day to you, my Lady."

"Good day, Ambassador. Beware of the goblins," she warned playfully as his foot touched the threshold. So she _did_ remember him.

Tævek turned and grinned with delight. "I assure you I will be quite safe, for I am their king and they obey my every command."

Guinevere laughed heartily. "Then you do remember!"

"Of course," he said with complete earnest. "How could I forget?" He flashed a flattering smile at her. Her cheeks flushed and she looked away. She did indeed think he was handsome, then. No doubt, she was also remembering everything he had said to her as a boy. And there was the matter of that kiss… Tævek had not understood the significance of it at the time, but he did now. If only things could be different.

"Enjoy your tour, Ambassador," she looked back up with an intrepid and astute smirk. He had succeeded in disarming her once, but she was making it quite clear that it would not happen again. Such feistiness!

"Thank you, Lady," he said as he left. _What a captivating female!_

* * *

Other than the welcoming reception, Tævek unfortunately did not see much of the lady he realized he was rapidly becoming infatuated with. She had practically stunned him at the event, with her form-fitting royal blue gown and her raven locks falling down her back. After that occasion, however, he only saw her once more in the garden before it was time for him to depart for Romulus. He would only be gone for a month or two, but he knew he would sorely miss his "fairy princess." If only he had been able to see more of her, even if it was pointless. He vowed that during the separation, he would contrive more reasons for them to interact when he returned.

He was walking the terrace outside the gymnasium for that very purpose when Lord Tierney approached him from the garden. "Ambassador," he called. Tævek made his way over to meet him.

"I trust your stay has been up to your standards?" Tierney inquired.

"My expectations have been exceeded, my Lord," he told him. "How can I be of service?"

"There is an important and delicate matter I wish to discuss with you. Shall we?" He indicated in the direction back toward the garden. Tævek assented, and they walked in that direction. "Ambassador, may I ask you a rather bold question?"

"By all means," he replied. "Candor is an important quality for open relations."

"Do you find my sister attractive?"

Tævek stopped in mid-stride, but thought quickly. "I would venture to say that there is not a man who would _not_ find your sister attractive, my Lord."

"How attractive?" he asked.

What could possibly be the purpose of this line of questioning? "Very attractive, my Lord," he admitted. "But why are you asking me this?"

"Attractive enough to marry her?" Tierney looked him right in the eye.

Tævek swallowed in shock. "I do not understand your meaning, Tierney."

"You said that you wish to cement the ties between our worlds," the human explained. "Our custom is to do that through marriage."

"Why me?" the Romulan asked, playing the devil's advocate, though his first instinct was to leap at the opportunity.

"As the emissary of Romulus, you are the obvious choice," the lord said simply. "You said you find her appealing, and I can tell you that she likes you very much, too."

"What about the Basques?" he asked, since everything was going onto the table.

"It has become clear that as long as my uncle Ramiro is alive, there can be no reconciliation between us. Besides, they are caught up in the guerilla war against the Cardassians. That unfortunate matter will likely fall to _my_ children."

"I am sorry to hear that," the ambassador said.

"Yes. I realize this has never been done before, Ambassador," Tierney continued. "But these are ever-changing times. The relations between the major powers are getting more agitated by the day, it seems. We need to strengthen the ties with the few allies that we have before the inevitable catalyst comes along and everything explodes into open war."

"A wise precaution," Tævek heeded, "but how will the Romulan Empire benefit from this arrangement?"

Tierney shrugged. "Very little, I would imagine," he granted. "But you, Ambassador, stand to gain much from this alliance."

"Pray, enlighten me," he said, though he had very nearly made up his mind already.

"First," the Breton began, "as Joran's hand-picked successor, you will bring about a crowning success to the cherished work of his entire lifetime. It will no doubt be the pinnacle of your career. Second, Nua Breizh is perhaps not the most significant power around, but it is a power in its own right nonetheless. Your children will have a claim to its throne. Third, a woman you find to be 'very attractive' will become your bride. Need I go on?"

Tævek smiled thinly. "You are a merciless observer, Tierney… What is the downside?"

"You must convince the High Command to render us aid, should we ever need it. It's not that much more of a step from what your job entails already." He paused to allow time for his words to sink in. "Of course, we will give you time to consider the matter."

"I do not require any time," Tævek said slowly, "as I have already decided. I accept."

* * *

The next day, Tævek went with his aid down to the grand hall as had been arranged the evening before. He could not believe that this was happening. The knowledge that Lady Guinevere desired to marry him made him feel particularly confident that morning. He eagerly wanted to speak to her.

Nothing could have prepared him for the fiasco that was waiting for him, however. As he approached the chamber, he heard the raised voices of the three Allaire siblings.

"Why did you not consult me in this matter before making a decision?" an unfamiliar male voice cried out. "Do I not have a right to have a say in her future, too, Tierney?" This did not bode well.

"The agreement has been made, Heranal," he heard Cahal's voice say. "We will not go back on our word."

"How could you do this to me?! You're my brothers! Don't you care about me? Of course not! You're just selling me off to the highest bidder—like, like I'm a slave instead of your sister!" That was Guinevere's voice. It was then that Tævek realized that she had not been part of the agreement.

"You have known that your marriage would be arranged your entire life!" Tierney yelled back. "I stand in place of our father. You _will_ obey me!"

"I will marry a man that _I _choose!" she declared sharply.

Tævek was crushed. She did not _want_ to marry him? This had to stop, then. He would have her willingly, or not at all. In addition to his own personal humiliation, this was a recipe for the currently friendly association between their worlds to turn sour. Over sixty years of efforts could suddenly be undone if he did not find a way to remedy the situation.

As he calmed himself and allowed his mind to work, he realized that her vocalized objections were not necessarily to him personally, but rather to her lack of choice in the affair. An idea came to him. It would be a risky gamble, but nothing short of daring would obtain from her the results he desired. The Nua Breizhians were a proud people who were moved by brave deeds. Guinevere was no exception. Tævek still wanted her, and he decided that he wanted her badly enough to chance it.

Effortlessly, he threw the doors to the chamber open. "Indeed, my Lady," he announced, "you should have the right to choose." He faced Tierney and Cahal. "Why did you not tell me she was ignorant of the negotiations?" he demanded of them.

"We didn't think it mattered," Cahal excused.

"On Romulus, marriages occur only if both people are in agreement. I will not force her," he said firmly.

"The contract has been made," Tierney persisted. "It cannot be broken."

It was now when he stood at the edge of the point of no return. "Very well, then." Tævek stated calmly. Taking a sword from the collection above the fireplace (every room in the castle seemed to have a weapons display), he gave it to Guinevere with the tip pointed at his neck. "I propose a choice to you, Lady," he said, kneeling before her. "You can kill me, and therefore you will not marry against your will. Karnak," he addressed his aid, "Prepare a statement: there will be no retaliation of any sort as a result of her actions."

"But Ambassador!" he protested.

"Do it!" Karnak complied, and Tævek returned his eyes to Guinevere. "Or, you can spare my life and accept me," he said to her meekly. "But either way, your fate is in your own hands, my Lady."

Guinevere's mouth fell open and she stared at him in utter shock at his suggestion. Everyone else in the room was also stupefied.

"You trusted me when we were children," he went on. "Trust me now. I cannot promise you love, but I _can_ promise that I will try to win your love, and I will always treat you as my equal."

Guinevere blinked as she processed his words. Now it came time for the real test. She held the blade back up to his neck and made an incision. It was enough to draw blood, but not enough to harm him. Tævek did not flinch as he felt the pain sear though his skin, but kept his eyes locked with hers.

"You are a wise and valorous man, Tævek of Romulus," she said at last.

"I am a diplomat," he shrugged, letting on that this was a routine matter for him, "It comes with the job." He held completely still, as he had yet to hear her answer. She turned away, obviously trying to come to a decision. It was a good sign, but he knew better than to jump to conclusions.

Finally, she met his eyes again. "I will accept you."


End file.
